


Many Leather-bound Books...

by HannibalSolo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalSolo/pseuds/HannibalSolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially, you are a city-elf mage with a sad past and a certain degree of indecisiveness and a penchant for organizing books. Solas is curious to hear your "tale of woe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Leather-bound Books...

**Author's Note:**

> Many Leather-bound Books…
> 
> Part1/2(?)
> 
> (Solas x City-Elf!Reader)
> 
> *MINOR SPOILERS* But only tiny ones really. If they are big to you, I am sorry.

The library at Skyhold was a nightmare, to say the least. When you’d made the pilgrimage to the majestic and well-concealed castle, you hadn’t been exactly certain what assistance you might offer the Inquisition. You weren’t a warrior nor a sneak-thief, but you wanted to help—needed to help. If that meant organizing the library at Skyhold, then that’s what you would do, though you did have a rather serious secret. You were a mage, living outside of the Circle of Magi. Raised an elf in Denerim’s Alienage, when your magic had manifested, your widowed mother had concealed you and eventually smuggled you out of the city to meet a Dalish clan rumored to be traveling through the region.  
Though you were able to locate the clan, the Keeper already had a First, but your mother begged, and being a kindly, wizened elf, Keeper Shiaren agreed to take you to the next Arlathvehn to see if another clan was in need of one with the gift. It was a chance to be free of the shems’ institutions and free from the abuses that often were suffered by the elves, even among other mages. Eyes filled with hot tears and afraid, you’d clung to your mother as she’d said goodbye, but at last she’d left, and you were introduced to clan Elova, who accepted the addition of a young, city-elf mage with surprising vigour and enthusiasm. 

Eventually clan Elova made their way to the Arlathvehn and were overjoyed to find clan Felros was seeking a First to study under their keeper. Keeper Athras, had assessed you with narrowed eyes, but they’d sparked with mischievous humor, and he had not appeared unkind. Keeper Shiaren affectionately introduced you as, “Da’el’u” or “little secret” in the language of the elves, and that had decided the matter. Keeper Athras had smiled and replied, “Then, by Dirth’am’en, we shall keep you close, Da’el’u.” You’d felt sick leaving yet another family behind, but you knew that Keeper Shiaren could not have two pupils.

As time had passed, you’d adjusted to life among clan Felros and had come to love every single member of that clan. You’d learned much from Keeper Athras, who’d been surprised and excited by your natural talent and aptitude for navigating the Fade. You’d spent a few years living peacefully with your clan and learning all that you could of spirits and Dalish history. That was…until the Breach opened. Your clan had been in Ferelden at the time, and a tear in the Fade had appeared practically on top of your camp. 

You’d watched as a demon ripped open Keeper Athras, whose dying breath had been used to tell you to flee, and you had fled. Living for a month by yourself in the woods, you’d eventually stumbled into Redcliffe Village to gather news, though you’d been afraid of how an elf refugee might be received and had opted to leave your staff wedged between some boulders near the outskirts. However, you’d found that people were too weary from rebel mages having occupied Redcliffe, until the Herald of Andraste had come in a week before and cleaned things up, to even notice one scrappy elf stumbling around asking questions. As soon as you’d heard that people were moving en masse out to the Herald’s base in Skyhold to help, you’d set out to join the Inquisition, for the chance to help stop the Breach and the darkspawn Corypheus in whatever way you might, without sacrificing your freedom. Clan Felros deserved justice, but they had instilled in you above all else that you, as an elf, should never be a slave again. 

If you’d arrived and declared yourself an apostate seeking lend the Inquisition your magic then you might be signing away that freedom your people had taught you to value so dearly. You could not stand disappointing them like that, dead as they were. So you’d left your staff behind before making the final ascent and had elected to help how ever else you could. That was how you’d been assigned to the library. Someone needed to organize it, according to the Inquisitor’s Tevinter lover, Dorian Pavus, who often commented in the weeks since you’d arrived that you did not smile nearly enough.

It was early morning and you were working on cataloging some newly arrived books, your thumb caressing one of the leather-bound spines, when Dorian sauntered over and leaned casually against the wooden table where you were spreading out and sorting. “Ah, good morning, my friend! I see you're all smiles and sunshine as usual. Anything good come in this shipment?” You smirked faintly, an action that caused the intricate, tree-root-esque vallaslin on your face to twitch slightly. 

“Well, Dorian, that depends on your definition of good. Perhaps, you would like to partake of the thrilling study ‘Of Mages and Their Chaotic Minds’ or rather the scintillating ‘An Elf in the King’s Chambers.’ I am not sure which one will be more dirty and embarrassing,” you said quietly. Dorian guffawed, and gave you a lop-sided grin.

“Ah, ready with the quiet, but biting wit today, I see. Been taking lessons from Solas, have you?” Dorian asked playfully. You actually chuckled at that, grateful for the Tevinter’s relentless humor, as it kept you from sinking into your own melancholy. Varric’s reaching out to you for a couple games of Wicked Grace had helped too.

“Lessons on what, precisely?” said a familiar and soothing voice. You looked up from the pile of books to see Solas approaching from the entrance, a serene smile lighting his smooth and angular face. A face you’d grown fond of seeing.

“On how best to compact and fit an obtrusive amount of wit into the calmest and most restrained tone of voice possible,” Dorain replied without missing a beat. “I’m far too extravagant and undisciplined to accomplish such a feat.”

“An’eth’ara, da’len,” Solas said, inclining his head towards you, remembering his manners. “Dorian, I doubt she needs lessons from anyone to outwit you, if that is what you are implying,” Solas said, smiling mischievously. Dorian feigned a hurt expression.

“Oh, ser elf, you wound me! Truly. Now, I must find the Inquisitor to ease my pain,” Dorian cried, simpering wickedly before going downstairs. You chuckled softly, turning back to the task at hand.

“How are you today, lethal’lin?” you asked without looking up. Solas walked over to a nearby shelf, scanning it thoughtfully. You waited for a few moments in a companionable silence, as he collected himself. 

“Curious,” he said suddenly, causing you to turn your gaze on him again. His piercing blue eyes met your own eyes with the effect of transfixing them. You could not look away whenever he happened to catch your eye. It was unnerving and sent a sweet, hot pain through your stomach, which you suppressed mentally.

“What about?” you asked evenly.

“About you, lethal’lan,” he said, turning to you fully with his hands clasped behind his back, which stood ram-rod straight. He had excellent posture and an excellent…physique. You pushed back that blushing thought, waiting for him to continue. “You are Dalish. The vallaslin has already told me that. But where is your clan, if I may ask?” You couldn’t hold back the pained look that seized your face; your brows furrowed, and your mouth tugged into a trembling frown, and you averted your gaze to the floor. Keeper Athras, coughing up blood flashed across your mind. Then Keeper Shiaren saying her last farewell. Then your mother’s final farewell. Something older about your father stirred, but did not rise. You composed yourself enough to look back into Solas’ eyes and found them filled with pain and compassion, which was almost too much to bear. You straightened yourself and turned away, moving to lean against the banister that overlooked the first floor. 

“When the Breach opened and other rifts began opening everywhere, my clan’s camp was  
overwhelmed by demons. Our Keeper died…protecting me. It was so sudden. There was no time to mount a defensive strategy—barely time to escape. Clan Felros was slaughtered,” you said shakily. A stray tear ran down your cheek, and you tried to act as if it weren’t there. “I wanted to be a part of the organization that was fighting against the source of my loss. So I came here after gathering news at Redcliffe.” Solas moved to stand next to you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, lethal’lan,” he said in a muted and husky voice. 

“It is not your fault, Solas. It just seems that the Gods do not wish me to have a family,” you said with a bitter scoff. Solas quirked an eyebrow. 

“You have had other families?” he queried tentatively. 

“I was not born among the Dalish. I was born in an Alienage, but I ran away to join the Dalish when I was very young,” you said cautiously, though if you could trust anyone with your secret, it was Solas. Part of you wondered if you weren’t just being a coward, concealing the truth of your powers from him and the rest of the Inquisition’s outfit.

“Is that all there is to your tale?” Solas asked, obviously skeptical. He was sharp and intuitive. So much so that you wondered why he had not asked about all of this sooner.

“No,” you replied gravely, staring at him calmly, but with nervousness roiling around inside you. “Solas, I—there is something I want to—need to tell you, but I’m afraid.” Then he smiled unsettlingly. 

“If it is that you are mage, then you need not be afraid, da’len. I already know” he said, taking a step closer to you and lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper. Your mouth dropped open, and you were speechless for a moment. He chuckled. “Abelas, it is a bit mean to spring this on you like this, but I felt it after knowing you for a couple weeks, though you concealed it very well. Still I am very skilled at sensing the gift in others. I was simply wondering why you did not say something to me, if no one else.”

“I wanted to, but I was so afraid. My whole life has been defined by my magic. M-my father was murdered by a Templar who saw him performing a blood magic ritual. He assumed my father was summoning a demon to leash for evil ends. When my magic manifested, my mother smuggled me from the Denerim Alienage to save me from the shemlen’s Circle, then clan Elova kept me until the Arlathvehn, where I met with Keeper Athras of clan Felros and then they became my clan and for a few years I had a family. Then that was taken too,” you said bitingly. “So, forgive me if I was not eager to divulge my secret.” 

“Peace, da’len. I did not mean to be insensitive, merely to let you know that you have nothing to fear from me and that I am…” he paused momentarily. “I am here for you.” His hand still rested on your shoulder and he gave it a small squeeze. Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes and softly kissed his cheek. You pulled away, blushing furiously and clearing your throat.

“Thank you, Solas. You are a good friend,” you stammered, while he watched you with a faintly surprised expression. He recovered quickly and smiled with a smouldering warmth that set your heart racing. 

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward and slowly pressing his soft lips against your forehead, the hand he had on your shoulder shifting to cup your cheek. Too soon he was pulling back again and beginning to turn away. “I’ll let you get back to work. We’ll speak more later.” He exited down the stairs with steady and deliberate movements, while you watched mesmerized.


End file.
